


The Precipice

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Awkwardness, Fellatio, Fumbling, M/M, Masturbation, Sibling Rivalry, UST, teenage boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-01
Updated: 2012-02-01
Packaged: 2017-10-30 11:23:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/331230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Albus invites his new friend, Scorpius Malfoy, over to his house one summer break, the last thing in the world he expects is to have to compete with James for Scorpius's affection.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Precipice

**Author's Note:**

> I was bored. This is the result. I'm sorry about the mistakes/typos, etc. Un-beta'd, blah, blah, blah. Hope you like this!

**The Precipice**

"And this here's my room," Albus announced, pushing open his heavy bedroom door. He stood against it as Scorpius entered the room—the boy's boots echoed on the polished floorboards as he glanced around himself consideringly, silver-blond hair glinting in the late afternoon sun.

"Nice," Scorpius remarked. He was nothing if not perfectly concise, a trait Albus generally appreciated. "Where shall I put my things, then?"

"Oh." Albus hurried to take Scorpius's bags. "Just here," he said, setting them down by the makeshift bed, which was set up just beside his own. "You don't mind sleeping in here, do you?"

"Not at all," Scorpius assured him, and Albus let out a small breath of relief. They hadn't been friends long enough for all of this not to be slightly awkward, and it was still somewhat incredible to Albus that Scorpius Malfoy, who up until relatively recently had been nothing to him but a casual acquaintance, was here inside his house—planning to sleep on his  _floor_. It still stumped Albus as to why Scorpius had even agreed to stay here over the holidays in the first place—surely there was plenty to do at that gargantuan manor house of his.

"Good," Albus said finally, and stood there stupidly for a moment, scratching the back of his head. "Well, I suppose that concludes the guided tour. Wanna head out and practice for a bit before dinner?"

Scorpius flashed an uncharacteristically bright smile. “Sounds like a plan to me, Potter.”

Albus tried to smile back, even with a cool shiver, like the tickle of a spider on bare skin, running along his spine. He always shivered when Scorpius called him 'Potter.'

~o~

Although Albus had expected dinner to be an awkward event, he hadn't counted on just how determined his family seemed to humiliate him at every turn.

“And how  _is_  your father these days, Scorpius?” Harry asked loudly after his third glass of claret. He let out a loud belch and settled back into his chair, patting his stomach. "Not out of work again, is he?"

“Oh, for—” Albus let out a hiss of breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. “ _Dad_ ,” he warned. He had made his father promise not to make Scorpius uncomfortable during his stay here—and that had included any and all reference to his father, Draco. But Harry was clearly as full of curiosity as the rest of them: all evening Scorpius had been subjected to the Potter family's unwavering and somewhat creepy (on James's part, at least) questions and stares.

But Scorpius was as poised and gracious as ever. “It's alright,” he assured Albus with a small smile, and placed a gentle hand just above Albus's knee. Albus, confused and slightly flustered by the gesture, almost knocked over his juice in the ensuing embarrassment.

“Not at the moment, no. He's wonderful, actually; thank you for asking, Mr. Potter,” Scorpius politely responded, and removed the offending hand. “I must confess, he asks after you quite often. Particularly now that Albus and I have been spending more time together.”

“Does he just?” Harry asked with a falsely cheery smile. “Lovely. You give him my best, won't you?”

“Of course.”

Muttering something under his breath, Harry retreated into sulky silence for the rest of the meal. Albus was cautiously relieved. He cast a sidelong glance at Scorpius, who smiled back at him—cheeks flushed, hair windswept and clothes covered in bits of dried grass—and let out a deep breath.

“So,” James piped up from the end of the table, effectively spoiling the silence.

As was custom whenever James spoke, everyone turned to look at him. 

“I was watching you play from out the window, Malfoy," James continued, eyes glittering in the candlelight. "You look like you can, er, really handle a broom. Impressive.” He winked at Scorpius then and took a long sip from his glass.

“Thanks,” Scorpius replied, with a rather bland expression. “The two of us should get out and fly sometime; I've been meaning to practice with a Keeper for ages.”

“Is that so?” James asked, still wearing that over-confident smirk that Albus just itched to punch right off his smug face. “Well, you're in luck, then—I'd love to. How long are you staying for?”

Albus didn't hear Scorpius's response. He knew exactly what James was doing— _flirting_ —and Albus was far too consumed with rage now to notice anything else.

He knew his anger was somewhat irrational: this was nothing new as far as James was concerned; the boy was a notorious flirt, was infamous for it, and it didn't matter to him whether Scorpius was a boy or a girl—he was pretty,  _very_  pretty, and that was good enough for James. But the fact that this was  _Scorpius_  made this time different for Albus, as if James were truly trying to take something away from him. He couldn't stand the twisting sensation in his guts; was sure he'd never felt jealousy quite so intensely. All he wanted was for it to disappear.

His friendship with Scorpius had arisen less than a term ago, when the pair of them had bonded over a series of Transfiguration detentions; and every day since then had been a lesson in confusion for Albus: Confusion over their friendship, when Albus had been more than a little unsure as to whether anyone—his friends and family, a veritable army of Gryffindors—would ever approve of his sudden befriending of a Slytherin with the surname 'Malfoy'; confusion as to why he and Scorpius had even become friends in the first place when, on the surface at least, they shared so little in common; and confusion as to precisely what Albus's feelings were trying to tell him when, oftentimes, just looking at Scorpius—his skin, his lips, those big gray eyes—was enough to give Albus a decidedly guilty erection.

And now this—jealousy; something Albus was so ill-equipped to deal with when he had so seldom experienced it. He wondered now, and not for the first time, whether everything would have been simpler had they never become friends in the first place.

~o~

Albus waited until Scorpius was in the shower before he raced down the hall to James's room, threw open the door, and demanded, “What are you doing?”

James looked up at him from the bed and shot him a nasty look. “What have I told you about coming in here without knocking?" he sneered. "Get out, Al, before I _make_ you get out.” He returned to his magazine then—a muggle sports publication featuring a busty blonde, dressed in nothing but a skimpy swimsuit, on the cover.

Albus kicked the door closed behind him. “Scorpius,” he growled, ignoring James's threat. “ _'You look like you can really handle a broom'_? Seriously? Look, just stay away from him, alright? I know what you're playing at, but it's not going to fly this time. Not with him.”

James let go of the magazine, so that it fell to his chest, and looked up at Albus once more, his sour expression belying his amusement. “Well, well, well,” he said quietly. “What's this, then? Is Malfoy your new girlfriend or something?”

Albus clenched his fists at his sides, trying to suppress the anger that had risen in him like bile. “It's not like that,” he gritted. “I'm looking out for him is all."

James shrugged. “Well don't worry; I'll take good care of him. Night night, Albus.”

“I said—”

“You said it's not like that,” James cut in, eyes flashing, “so that makes him fair game, doesn't it?”

Albus set his jaw—he was using every ounce of restraint he possessed not to dive onto his brother and start throwing punches. Instead, he seethed, “You know what? Forget it—it doesn't even matter. Like he'd ever fuck you, anyway.” He spun on his heel and threw open the door, James's cruel laughter ringing in his ears.

“Come on, Al,” James called as Albus stormed from the room. “I know you're stupid, but you're hardly blind—it wasn't _you_ he was making eyes at during dinner, was it? He'll be mine before the night's out; you'll see!”

~o~

Albus tried to enjoy the rest of the evening in high spirits—the look of awe on Scorpius's face when Albus turned the television on so that they could watch _Reservoir Dogs_ together should have seen to that—but what his brother had said earlier had planted a seed of doubt, of suspicion, inside Albus's mind; and try as he might, he could think of little else but James, holed up in his room down the hall, scheming to get Scorpius alone so that he could fuck him and later rub it in Albus's face.

When it was finally time to turn in, Albus pretended to be tired, too; he watched, yawning, as Scorpius crawled into his makeshift bed on the mattress and disappeared beneath the covers. There was an empty feeling inside Albus's stomach as he clicked his fingers and the lights burnt out. Although it was an inordinately painful conclusion for him to draw, and one that caused him to question almost everything he thought he knew about himself, he realised he didn't want Scorpius to be down there on the floor, where he was close but not nearly close enough. No. He wanted him _here_ , right _here_ , in his bed and in his arms, skin pressed to his skin, mouth pressed to his mouth, fingers and limbs and tongues entwined.

But James was right—Albus _was_ stupid. Scorpius didn't want that, didn't want _him_ , and forcing the boy through this facade of friendship just to gain an end was unnecessarily cruel to them both. It was clear now what Albus had to do. When school went back, he would have no choice but to end things with Scorpius. There was no sense in this; none at all.

“Potter?”

Jolted out of his own thoughts, Albus exhaled carefully and whispered, “Yeah?”

“Thanks for inviting me over. I … I've had a really nice time.”

Albus groaned inwardly. It seemed that Scorpius was intent on making it doubly hard for Albus to do this, to end things, without looking like a gigantic arsehole.

“Don't mention it,” Albus said finally, his tone stiff. “It's, er, nice having you here. Beats being cooped up all summer by myself.”

“But your brother...?”

“Doesn't count as human,” Albus finished, not joking by half. "He hardly makes for titillating company.” Scorpius laughed, and a reluctant smile tugged at Albus's lips.

“Goodnight, Potter.”

Albus bit his lip now, attempting to bury down the fierce desire that word evoked, and said, “Night, Scorpius.”

When Scorpius's breathing eventually grew soft and even, Albus rolled onto his back, still deep in thought, and absently pushed a hand inside his boxers. He'd been half-hard all day: ever since Scorpius had stepped out of the Floo that afternoon, eyes bright and smiling, a streak of soot across his porcelain cheek, and Albus had been inexplicably tempted to step forward and put his lips to that skin—to get rid of that smudge using his tongue alone.

He'd been deeply ashamed of himself for allowing this thought to gain even the slightest momentum, but now that he had finally forced himself to acknowledge the truth, that what he felt for Scorpius was less than platonic, he was overcome with the reckless abandon of the utterly hopeless—he allowed his thoughts, his fantasies, to roam further than they'd ever roamed before. Tonight—with Scorpius here in the same room—would mark the first occasion Albus had ever touched himself while thinking about Scorpius and nothing else.

Careful not to make a sound, Albus curled a hand around his cock and closed his eyes, parting his legs a little. He thought about the way Scorpius had looked on his broom this afternoon—graceful, elegant, flushed, ruffled. He wondered then whether the boy would look anything like that while he was being fucked, and very nearly let out a groan. Biting down hard on his lip, he hastened the speed of his strokes and fixated on the particularly erotic fantasy-image of Scorpius on his knees, sucking Albus's cock, lips red and wet, cheeks hollowed, and knew it wouldn't be long before he came.

When he was seconds away from orgasm, the sound of movement, the rustling of sheets, caused him to freeze like some comical mime, caught and suspended in the act of masturbation. He silently chastised himself for having been so reckless and waited there, motionless, for Scorpius to speak.

He didn't.

What Albus did hear was the light sound of the boy's footsteps padding across the room, and all of a sudden the fear of being caught wanking was eviscerated, only to be replaced by a far more urgent sense of dread; of horror. The words _it wasn't you he was making eyes at during dinner, was it? He'll be mine before the night's out; you'll see!_ echoed over and over inside Albus's head until he rather suddenly kicked off his sheets and blankets, snatched up his wand, and blurted, ' _Lumos_!'

Light flared across the room. Scorpius, hand on the door-knob, pale hair adorably mussed, naked but for a pair of pyjama bottoms, paused and slowly turned around. Squinting, he rubbed his eyes and said, “Albus? Is something the matter?”

Heart pounding, Albus leapt out of bed and crossed the room in just a few quick steps, flattening himself against the door. Panting, he shook his head at Scorpius and said, “No. You can't do this. I'm sorry, but I won't let you.”

Scorpius folded his arms across his chest—which, rather unfortunately, drew Albus's attention to the rosy buds of his nipples—and looked Albus up and down thoughtfully. “Are you sleep-walking or something? It's just that you're not making a great deal of sense, I'm afraid.”

Albus, trying to raise his gaze to eye-level, shook his head again and snapped, “No, I'm not bloody sleep-walking and you know it!" He was convinced now that Scorpius was trying to deceive him and this was even worse than the jealousy. "I'm trying to stop you from making a huge mistake," he went on, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. "You don't want to do this, Scorpius; believe me.”

Scorpius appeared genuinely confused now. “I don't?”

“No,” Albus replied, head spinning, and tried to keep talking even when his brain seemed to have failed him. “Because if you do, you'll only regret it later—believe me, I've seen it happen a thousand times before. You'll end up feeling worthless, like you've been used, and it'll change everything between you and me, and I—I don't want that. I _really_ don't want that...”

Scorpius nodded, slowly. “I see,” he said gravely. “You know, I never thought going to get a glass of water during the night could lead to such disastrous consequences.”

Albus felt as if he'd been slapped. “A … A glass of water?” he echoed, weakly.

Scorpius took a few steps toward him, until they were nearly chest to chest. “Yes, Potter. A glass of water.” Narrowing his eyes, he added, “Now, I'm going to go out on a limb here and suggest you thought I was doing something quite different, yes?”

Like a chastised little boy, Albus looked down at his feet and, silently, nodded his head.

“What did you think I was going to do?”

Albus shook his head. “Never mind,” he muttered, feeling like the world's greatest tool. “Just go and get your glass of water; I'm going back to bed.” He couldn't believe he had been so enormously stupid; and yet he knew that all of this was linked and of course led back to Scorpius—the jealousy; the irrational behaviour; the horrible and confusing sexual fantasies. After this latest debacle, he _had_ to end this. There was no other way.

He'd gone mad in a way he'd never done before—and over Scorpius Malfoy, of all the people in the world!

“Potter,” Scorpius chided, in a voice that sent shivers running along Albus's spine. “What on earth has gotten into you? I'm not going anywhere until you explain yourself.”

Supposing that he was damned if he did and damned if he didn't, Albus let out a long sigh and ran a hand through his unruly hair. “Fine,” he began heavily. “The way James was flirting with you at dinner, I … I thought you might have been going out there to meet with him and I … I didn't want you to. I couldn't stand the thought; it makes me sick, actually."

Scorpius was looking at him oddly now, chest rising and falling in rapid pace with his breathing. “Why?” he asked, rather forcefully.

“I don't know,” Albus grumbled. “I just didn't—” He was unable to finish this sentence, however, as he rather suddenly had an armful of warm, half-naked boy. His wand clattered to the ground as Scorpius latched his arms around Albus's neck; wrapped long legs around his waist. With a soft little sigh the boy pressed his lips to the corner of Albus's mouth, clearly missing the mark, and hissed, “You're so fucking dense, Albus Potter. As if I'd want your stupid brother when all I can think about is _you_...”

Albus, trembling with frazzled nerves, looped his arms around Scorpius's waist and spun them around, slamming Scorpius up against the door. He wanted to pause the moment, to demand answers to his questions; to figure out precisely what the fuck was going on, but his lust for Scorpius—and that was undoubtedly what it was; pure and unadulterated _lust_ —banished all reasonable thought from his mind. His cock was thinking for him now, as if it had simply been biding its time; waiting for this very moment until it could finally take control of the situation and give Albus what he'd always wanted.

“I didn't know you felt — How long?” was all he could manage, in between ragged breaths.

Lips grazing Albus's cheek, fingers curled tightly in his hair, Scorpius breathed, “Years. Two, at least.” His voice took on a desperate tone. “Merlin, I'd thought I was being obvious—I all but painted 'Fuck me, Albus Potter' on my forehead, and you still weren't getting it. I almost gave up; I was sure you weren't interested. But you must be—you were jealous tonight, weren't you?”

“Fuck yes,” Albus growled. He took Scorpius's face between his hands and kissed him, hard, on the mouth. He refused to think about anything now but how good this felt—how _right_. Scorpius pushed at Albus's chest until he had enough room to get to his feet. When he did, he promptly dropped to his knees and, in one swift motion, pulled Albus's boxers down around his ankles, wrapping a warm hand around his cock. Scorpius stared at it for a moment, as if he'd been dreaming about this very moment all his life, and glanced back up at Albus with a meek expression—made particularly obscene by his current position, and the fact that he was presently rubbing his own rather obvious erection through his pajama pants. "Do you mind?" he asked, as guileless and eager as a child in a sweet shop.

Unable to speak, Albus communicated his willingness to cooperate by taking firm grip of the base of his cock and rubbing it against Scorpius's lips. The mere visual of this was so erotic he was forced to bite down hard on his lip to forestall his untimely release. And then Scorpius parted his lips and took Albus's cock into his mouth, so far down that Albus was left feeling not only impressed but also oddly jealous that Scorpius had so clearly practiced doing this to _someone else_. But Albus couldn't think about that now—not when he was experiencing the single greatest moment of his life. Not when he was doing his utmost to ensure the memory of Scorpius Malfoy—gorgeous and perfect and _beautiful_ Scorpius Malfoy—on his knees with a cock in his mouth remained forever burned into his memory.

Scorpius, who was generally rather dignified and reserved, sucked cock with an enthusiasm Albus had scarcely ever seen him display. He hummed eagerly as he sucked, causing Albus's toes to curl with the intensity of the pleasure, and when he slipped a hand between Albus's legs to rub his balls, there was nothing else for it—Albus couldn't hold on a second longer. It felt as if something had imploded inside him, racking him in waves, and with a guttural cry—which Albus was certain the entire household heard—he took firm grip of the back of Scorpius's head and, rather roughly, rammed his cock down the other boy's throat as he came. Scorpius gagged but dutifully stuck to task, and released Albus only when the moment had well and truly drawn to a close.

Wiping his wet mouth with the back of his hand, Scorpius let a weary laugh and fell back to the floor, Albus collapsing in a sweaty, trembling heap on top of him. Scorpius wound an arm around Albus's shoulders and tenderly stroked the hair back from his face. Fighting to catch his breath, Albus clung to the other boy tightly, his mind a jumble of thoughts and feelings, and without thinking, pressed a kiss to the Scorpius's chest.

"If I wake up now," Scorpius laughed, his voice rough and hoarse, "I swear I'll jump off of the astronomy tower. I've waited too long for this only to be cheated out of it at the last moment."

When Albus didn't say anything, Scorpius raked his fingers through Albus's messy dark hair and asked, "So what now?"

"I don't know," Albus honestly replied, his arms and legs as heavy as lead; he was so tired he'd be content just to fall asleep right here, against Scorpius's chest.

"Was this a one-off, then?"

"Yes," Albus said. "I mean, no!" he quickly amended. "I-I don't know. I can't even think. I just ... I need time to ... to process all of this."

"You mean time to figure out whether you actually want me or whether you just like getting your cock sucked."

" _No_ ," Albus told Scorpius, firmly. He lifted his head and sought Scorpius's bruised lips—he was determined to show Scorpius that, whatever happened after this, he had not been used; that this was not the end. After a long and languid kiss, Albus whispered, "I know I want you, alright? I don't need to think about that. I just don't know how to let myself want you. Does that make sense?"

Scorpius, lowering his lashes, muttered, "Enough sense. I suppose it has to be enough, though, doesn't it?"

Albus let out a sigh. He didn't know what else to say. Unwilling to think a moment longer, and resolving to leave the most difficult questions for tomorrow to deal with, he rested his head against Scorpius's chest and, tightening his arms around the boy, allowed sleep to finally drag him under.

***


End file.
